Spurs
by CrucisDeus
Summary: A series of one shots. Various moments of Syndra's life.


"Look at that. That's where we're headed to."

The sun already setting, its reddish light accentuating her perfect jawline, playing with her pearlescent hair, bluish shadows bestowing her perfectly still features of a certain dynamism. Her eyes were fixated on the horizon.

They were standing in a promontory looking down upon Kalamanda, little but an irregular grid of narrow streets and lime washed houses. An ideal spot for them to set foot in the unknown, a voyage that would take them through the scorched regs that lie beneath. He'd persevered on trying to go alone, he'd looked her at the face and told her of the discomforts they would face in the desert's midst many times, yet she had always turned her back on him and continued contemplating the landscape, stubbornly intent on not listening, or looking at him.

Two young rascals passed them by, their faces inscrutable save for the fact they were intently looking at them. He had no doubt that he would find the telltale glint of amusement beneath their hoods were he to observe them attentively; after all, two fair and unhardened youths exposing themselves to the winds of the desert was something bound to mark them as a pair of idiots who didn't value their water very much if at all. He'd have certainly tried to ascertain were he not to busy looking at someone else.

"It burns fiery red, as if to catch the desert in its flames."

She looked them just askance, dismissed them with a subdued gesture to allow herself to contemplate the eve of dusk. Her words rang true: it was especially vibrant, crawling with crimson reflections that bestowed the whole western horizon of an otherwordly quality. A cold, steady wind gently rushed from the darkness beyond, a welcome relief from the scorching heat of such a southerly country. It played with her hair, tickling her ears, peeled away the warmth from her sunburnt skin in such a way that she couldn't help but shiver in crystalline pleasure. Yet she still kept her focus on the setting sun... and the remains of an ancient castle beneath her palms...

She knew there was a river nearby, even if she didn't quite know where: the wind carried the unmistakable scent of fresh water to her. Opening the floodgates for a veritable torrent of childhood memories, resplendent afternoons spent splashing about natural pools back in southern Ionia, that competed with the darkling sky for her attention. She'd lived those moments before – her own screams of joy filled her ears as the corners of her mouth crept upwards, and her magic mimicked her thoughts.

It wasn't until he plucked a small stone from the air that she realized she was getting too carried away.

"There's a big sandstorm ahead. What you see, the red light all around us, is sunlight failing to pass through the clouds of dust carried along with the wind."

"I had heard about those in the past. My mother used to tell me that, in far away lands, there were storms with no water. I remember being confused – a dry storm, I couldn't conceive it. And it's as beautiful as the most precious of my dreams."

"First time I crossed the mountains, the tribesmen warned me about the dangers of sandstorms. It gets in everywhere, through the tiniest gaps, between the pages of a closed book. Their superstition holds it, the sand gets in men and women as well, turning them into mere wraiths driven by boundless greed and ambition."

She was now pensive: the lowering of her eyebrows and the relaxation of her lips betrayed her slight confusion both. High aloft, the sky grew noticeably darker, the formerly red horizon now a black splotch, kind of like a blurry, distant mountain range. It was eerie and beautiful in equal parts, a phenomenon unlike any other they had ever seen. Alpha Calycis, bright as ever, hung midway on the southern sky, a red ruby followed by tens of pearls timidly peeking from their hideouts as the vesper slowly gave way to the darkest night.

Anyone looking up the hill wouldn't haven seen much; the two silhouettes atop it were being progressively lost in the diminishing light. Candles and lanterns would only throw their light so far, and there were only so many stars that their contours would soon fade.

"I don't quite understand what they mean by that. Why would sand be different?"

It was now dark enough that the faint violet glow in her eyes superscribed her usually black iris, illuminating her nose just a little. Otherwise, he would have had no clue whatsoever as to where to look.

"Sand is worthless – it gets blown all over, buries the crops and turns the soil poor and dry. It consumes everything."

Her eyebrows arched in a silent _'huh?'_.

"But they're wrong – I know it will never get in you."

The wind was already calming, the sandstorm too distant to be heard over the sound of her rustling hair. Both tickled him as she cuddled in close, searching for warmth and comfort to rob him of, and planted a kiss on his cheek so slight it was almost lost to the breeze.


End file.
